


What's a Spark Between Friends?

by bluewhitewings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dominance, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 03:49:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluewhitewings/pseuds/bluewhitewings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg flirts, Cas doesn't.  They end up in the backseat of a rental car.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's a Spark Between Friends?

“It’s not you,” he stated as she blinked brown eyes at him, like a satisfied cat.  “It’s me.”  The girl’s lips pursed ever so slightly as she tipped her head.  Sable curls spilled over his hands as she sidled against him and popped a hip, the motion brushing the denim of her jeans against the fabric of his slacks in a slow drag.

“You realize that is the  _lamest_  excuse I have ever heard.”  Her voice was kitten-like, all soft and sweet but prickling with sharp bits.  He shifted, attempting to move back, but was trapped against the driver’s side of the car, and her hands slid against his chest, wrapping around his tie and giving it a little tug as her chin tipped up.  He looked away, and he could feel the frown on his face as she reached up to tip his chin back to her.  “What’s a little fun between friends?”

Searching for the words, he came up empty.  “I can’t,” he tried, and made the mistake of meeting her sultry gaze and could feel his will faltering.  “It wouldn’t be right.”  He tried to shift away again, but the hand on his tie and the soft heat of her hips swayed forward.  “ _Meg_.” he said, clear reproach in his tone as he endeavored to move her from him.

“C’mon, Clarence.  Don’t you wanna become a man?” she teased, her lips moving against his jaw as a spike of something unfamiliar shot through him.  Well, not  _unfamiliar_ , exactly.  He knew the feeling.  As her soft lips brushed closer to his ear, he found his chance, gripping her shoulders again and sliding away from the car, and found himself pressing her back into the same position as he had been in just moments before.

“If you are insinuating that I am not a man because I have not indulged myself in sexual contact…” He hadn’t intended to add the low rumble to the edge of his voice.  Sometimes it just came up when dealing with demons.  “You would be right.  I am not a man.”  The affirmation of his angelic heritage was left unsaid. They both knew what he was.  Meg’s chin tipped up and her leg came up to rub against the side of his, a playful smile curling her lips, and his train of thought abruptly spiraled off into a scattering fractals of sinful contemplation.

“You’re just a big ol’ virgin, Feathers.  I wanna help you with that. Think of it as a practice session.  You don’t wanna blow your load the minute Dean gets it through his thick head you’re into him, do you?”  the demon said with calculated slyness. She reached up with one hand, the other still clutching his tie and threaded her fingers through his vessel’s dark hair, dragging the strands between her fingers.  He could feel his body responding to the touch and the thought of Dean, and reached up to catch her wrist, pulling it away from his head and pressing it to the roof of the car, the gesture a little too rough.  “Ooh, Clarence.  Did I hit a nerve?” she purred, canting her hips forward and looping her leg round his.

Castiel watched her head tip back and his eyes followed the long line of her neck as she arched against his grip, the swell of her breasts against her shirt.  The sexual dimorphism of humans had never been of particular interest to him, but Meg wore the body with a sexuality that piqued it, despite his best efforts to the contrary.    “You haven’t hit a nerve,” he admitted honestly, his attention drifting slowly back up to her face.  “Dean and I have a deep friendship.”

She bit her lip and slowly let it go, her eyelids heavy.  “That so, Clarence?”  His grip tightened on her wrists as he sensed an attempt to escape, but he needn’t have bothered.  He was suddenly caught in the vicelike grip of her thighs and she dragged him forward, her hips rolling against his in a clothed but extremely vivid simulation of sexual intercourse.  He could feel the blood rush in his ears, a breath startled out of him at the suggestive caress of her body.

He couldn’t help the hard edge to his voice.  “My  _name_  is  _Castiel_. Leave Dean out of this.”  She smiled at him and arched against him again, the maddening swivel of her hips and the feel of heated flesh against clean white cotton.  With a sigh, he distanced his mind from the physical distraction.  “But what if he came along and wanted himself a big slice of angel-food cake?” she whispered. Castiel could feel his brow furrow deeply and not a thing on Heaven or Earth would have been able to stop it.

“It is unlikely.”  His voice was edged with doubt and he hated it.  “Dean does like pie, but I don’t think his feelings extend to other pastries.”  Laughter rose into the dusk air. The hips against his groin were growing more distracting, despite the rift he’d created between his superior consciousness and the flesh of his vessel.

“Cassie, how do you expect to impress your hunk of a boyfriend if you spooge all over your slacks the minute he looks at you?”  The sentence was too full of unfamiliar references for Castiel to sort through immediately and he stared.

“Dean is my friend.  And I do not…” He huffed as Meg thrust her hand between them,  _gripping_  him through the layers of fabric as she bit at his lower lip.  He pulled his head back to finish his thought.  “I do not need to impress him.  We share a bond.”  Breath caught in his chest and her nails slid over his length.  “I don’t know what ‘spooge’ is.”

Meg laughed, her fingers dancing over his shaft.  “Aw, poor baby angel.  Let me teach you all about it.”  She lowered her legs to the ground and fumbled a hand out to find the handle on the door to the backseat, her other hand already looping into his belt and slipping past the waistband of his slacks.  He could barely keep the rift between his mind and body constant as she pulled him to the open door, sliding into the backseat and releasing him just long enough to pull her shirt over her head, tossing it into the front seat.

He looked away from the half-dressed woman in the back seat, struggling to ignore the way her fingers skated up her stomach to the red fabric, the way the dark soft skin surrounding her nipples peeked out and the taut peaks pressed to the lace.  His eyes flicked to the horizon, then back to her long enough to watch her fingers dip into her undone jeans, pressing her breasts together, the soft curve between them setting his nerves on fire.  A soft gasp left her as her fingers moved beneath the denim and his mind lit up with a graphic depiction of what she could possibly be doing, and with a growl he tore off his trench coat and threw it into the front seat as well.

Her jeans were next, stupid tight things that they were, and he dragged them off her legs and balled them up, sliding into the backseat atop her and pulling the door closed behind him as her hands drove into his dark hair.  She was pulling, tugging, and it was good, it  _worked_  for him.  He shoved her forward, biting at her neck fiercely and letting his teeth scrape over her smoky skin.  As her back impacted the opposite door, he dragged his fingers over her body, adjusting the fabric of reality just enough to rid her of the red lace clinging to her hips.

Fingers clawed against his neck as she gripped him, her voice lower, with an edge of impatience.  “Somebody’s eager.  Using Daddy’s mojo to get your very own demon ready for you?”  His eyes flicked up, an icy blue laced with warning, but he said nothing as his hand trailed down the center of her stomach, turning and cupping her mound.  The effect on the woman was like a slow heat, a single pinpoint of light through a glass on a bit of kindling.  Nothing much at first, but a rush of  _potential_ , kinetic energy.

He exhaled, stroking his fingers against her lower lips, allowing her to pull his head to her breast, his teeth catching the peak through the rough fabric as he licked a wet stripe against lace and skin.  “Oh, Clarence.  You catch on quick.”  Her voice jumped as his finger slipped inside of her, slick walls clutching as her fingers gripped and tore at his jacket, pulling the dark fabric down over his shoulders as he struggled out of it.

“I am familiar with the practice of stimulation.”  he retorted with a quick glance to her dark eyes, admiring for a moment the way her pupils were blown wide.  Slowly withdrawing his finger and letting the wet pad skim against the cleft of her sex, up and up until she jumped and whimpered, gripping his wrist.  He straightened as much as he could, untangling himself from the remains of his jacket and pulling his tie off.  Her hands rushed to his slacks, palming him through them and he growled, and he could feel wetness where the tip of him rubbed against his boxers.

Her hands fumbled his slacks open and as he was plunging a second finger into her, marveling at just how  _messy_  humanity was, her fingers encircled his shaft and  _pulled_ , the soft skin moving over hard flesh beneath and Castiel nearly lost himself right then.  He growled, and froze, eyes clenched shut and his other hand tight in her hair as his shaft throbbed and twitched against her palm.  Her laughter was soft in his ear, teasing but not malicious.  “Oh, you poor thing.”  With a wicked look, she slid her fingers back to the base and pulled again, letting the soft skin slip past her fingers as she traced around the head and rubbed against the slit, gathering moisture on her finger before slipping the digit into her mouth.

Castiel willed away the urge to rut against her thigh and stared instead, and as she reached for him, he shook his head and lowered his body over hers.  “I want to try something.”  He leaned down, feeling the fever-heat of her skin against his cheek, his lips brushing against the faint swell of her belly, his tongue dipping into her navel.  She raised one eyebrow at him but a smile grew on her face as he moved himself lower, his lips parted in fascination as he took in the sight of her, ducking his head down to open her folds with an abrupt swipe of his tongue, pointing it and tracing upwards to the same spot that had made her sigh before.  This time it made her jolt and grab his hair, a growl leaving her lips as she arched against his face.

“Oh, I can see why Dean likes you… If I were him I’d have you down there every day.”  He looked up at her, giving a harder lick to see if that would silence her.  “Ooh!  I bet you love it when I talk about what he’d do to you.”  Castiel pressed two fingers into her, letting his tongue circle and stroke that spot that kept her squeaking and gasping.  He closed his lips around it gently and gave a little suck and she nearly tore his hair out by the roots.  “I bet you’d let him fuck those pretty lips of yours.  You’d l-lose yourself in being on your knees for the Righteous Man, wouldn’t you?”  He huffed against her and added a third finger, pressing them into her and arching them upwards as he stroked them through her quickly.  Her breath caught in her throat as his tongue swept over her in a flurry of light caresses.  “Oh  _fuck_ , Cas.”   He had to admit, in that deep, private part of his soul that he didn’t like to think about, that he would rather like to have the Righteous Man standing over him with his cock between his lips, worshipping it with his mouth.  Or perhaps the other way around…

A solid swat brought him back to the here and now, and Meg was looking down at him with heat in her eyes, the fire of her demonic nature reflecting from nowhere in her dark eyes.  The chastisement worked for him in a way he had never considered before and he felt a heavy twitch press his cock against the carseat. “I didn’t say you could stop.”  He tried for contrite, and buried his face against her eagerly, lapping at the salt-smoke taste that now graced his lips and cheeks as well as the woman’s skin.  He noted that every time he brushed his stubbled lip or chin against her sensitive flesh she shivered, and he used that to his advantage, soothing her with long, slow licks against her and  _into_  her before pressing the stubble to her again, the prickling sensation sending intense shivers through her body.  His fingers within her moved, stroked, and arched.

Meg seemed to be in the height of bliss, her eyes closed, chest heaving as she rocked against him, fingers dragging and stroking through his hair.   “Mmm, Cas… Cas, you’re gonna make me come, who.. who knew such a good boy would have such a dirty mouth?”  He nearly pulled away to question her, but she quirked a warning brow at him when he looked up at her and kept his mouth where it was.  “Here’s how it’s gonna go, Clarence.  I’m gonna turn around and you’re gonna put that pretty dick inside me, and then you’re gonna give me all you’ve got, you understand me?”

Ignoring the steady throb of his erection was growing more difficult, and at the demon’s words he was twitching again, spilling another few drops of liquid against the backseat.  He pulled away and nodded, wiping his mouth as Meg surged forward, his lips, wet and chapped meeting her lips, glossed and swollen from biting, in a furious kiss made of teeth and nipping, of clawing and passion.  He pulled his fingers from her and she whimpered, shoving him back.  She slid back until her thighs touched his, his aching erection pressed into the cleft of her ass.

“C’mon, Angel-boy.  Come at me like you’re storming Hell.”  Castiel was watching the way his shaft rubbed against her skin and reveling in the feeling.  “Be careful what you wish for, Demon.”  He ground out roughly, reaching down, nudging against her with the thick head and slowly pressing inside with a rough exhalation.  “This feels nothing like storming Hell.  The parallels that you are trying to draw are… poor.”  Castiel slotted his hands just in front of her hips, a spot that seemed a natural fit.  Bending over her, he felt his hair brush her shoulder as his thighs touched hers and he shuddered, his shaft wrapped in the tight, hot silk of her body.

Meg looked back, her eyes glazed and lips parted as she panted.  “Shut up, Angel.”  Reaching back, she unsnapped the red lace straps that held her bra in place and then gripped his hands, moving them to her breasts and he gave them a rough squeeze, rolling the nipples between his fingers as he rocked his hips back and drove in quickly.

She rocked back against his thrust, her breath coming in short bursts as he picked up the pace, squeezing her breasts and dropping his head to bite at her shoulder.  The feeling was incredible, like nothing Castiel had ever had the pleasure of feeling, and he gave a rough growl against her skin at the feeling of molten heat searing through his veins.  She had one hand tangled in his hair, pulling and digging her nails in and the other between her legs, keeping herself on the edge as he teased and squeezed her breasts, the thrusts driving her roughly forward as his voice rose in pleasure.  Images of freckled shoulders and short cropped hair flashed through his mind and sent another intense jolt of pleasure through him.

“Oh fuck me, Clarence!  Give it to me!”  She moaned out a litany of curses and incoherent pleading that seemed to spike straight through him, the searing heat localizing in the pit of his stomach and causing his entire body to tense before driving as deep into her as he could manage, a primal sound rising in him that he muffled by biting the back of her neck in a feral gesture.  The world around him whited out as he crashed over the edge, his shaft twitching and pulsing as his seed poured out of him into Meg.  She gave an intense moan, the feeling of her body tensing and fluttering around him more a pleasant shock on his overstimulated body than anything, but he gave a pleased groan anyway.  The two collapsed into a sticky tangle of limbs.

It was several minutes before Castiel thought to move.  When he did, it was to brush Meg’s hair out of his face and try to contend with the chunks of glass that were scattered around the inside of the car.  He reluctantly pulled free of the woman and peered out the window.  Each and every window that he could see had been shattered.  Several of the cars were on fire.  The street light overhead was no longer providing any light, but for the occasional spark, and there appeared to be several cracks in the pavement, through which fire was flickering.

He stared in silence for a moment before shaking his head.  “We are never doing this again,” he said, and disappeared with a flutter of wings, his clothing disappearing along with him.

 

 


End file.
